


Into the dark night - the Battle of Arcturus

by Shackett74



Series: The Reaper war [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: 63rd Scouting Flotilla, F/M, Gen, Swearing, The Battle of Arcturus, The Reaper invasion, the Fifth Fleet, the Second Fleet, the Third Fleet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shackett74/pseuds/Shackett74
Summary: Personal audio log entrySteven Hackett[EDATE: 271805Z SEPT 2186]I presided over the greatest defeat in the history of mankind.What torments me is the sacrifice innocents had to make because of my decisions.That despite all my careful preparations the speed predictions were wrong, even my own.The cursed creatures were even faster...Over and over we tried to pin down that very detail without success. For eight months straight I forced them to narrow it down, yet in the end it could have cost us the war before it began.I consider myself in debt to the Second Fleet, to Arcturus' victims, heck every one on Earth, to keep trying find a way to defeat the Reapers!By all means necessary, so help me God.It might ruin us, but what good will it do to avoid depleted planets and systems if the Reaper's win?Somehow I will find a way to defeat them.Or die trying.[End audio log]~~~~For N7 Day 7th of November, 2020.The [EDATE] is from the game of course.
Series: The Reaper war [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980784
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: MEFFW Fictober 2020





	1. Into the dark night - The disaster at Arcturus

**Author's Note:**

>   
> As of February 2021 I'm making an overhaul on tense, sentence length, redundant words to hopefully increase the readability.  
> (The summary and) first chapter are deliberately written as 'diary entries' merely to explore my writing and highlight the Admiral's reasoning, thoughts and reactions to an event that must have been deeply unsettling regardless of his military profession and earlier experiences of battles and wars.
> 
> POV: 3rd person limited but I try a more distant voice than I normally do, and only occasionally do I zoom in on the Admiral's actual emotional reactions in the moment. Not sure I succeed though, so you're very welcome to alert me of course.
> 
> Unfortunately no Beta.

The chills the beeping high priority call caused in Hackett's stomach mirrored the chilly temperature in his bedroom.

Something was very wrong.

Hackett sat up in a hurry and the soft, thin sheets fell down to his waist, revealing a lean, fit chest littered with short dark and grey hair above an even more muscular abdomen and hips. Two dog tags clunked quietly around his neck as they fell to rest just below his collarbones.

A long time habit from his humble beginnings as an enlisted marine that he had kept through the years.  
But only one of the tags was his own.

"Yes?" every ounce of tiredness had evaporated in the short moments before he answered. Another lingering habit from his younger days, the habit of waking up in a blink that like all marines shared - and commanding officers for that matter. 

"Sir, I'm sorry to wake you but your orders were---"

"I know what my orders were..." he retorted to the nervous voice in the other end, the comm officer on duty, and decided he needed to go easy on the man.   
  
"There's no need to excuse yourself. What has happened?..."

A multiple of reasons appeared for Hackett's mind's eye, everything from something serious with Shepard, to an attack from Batarians...or worse.  
Much worse. He didn't even want to think of _that_ option _._

"The deep space listening buoys have gone dark. In vectors 5-9-1... Ehh, Batarian space, sir," the still nervous comm officer added flustered in the momentary pause from his CO.

"I know where it is..." came the suddenly lower, tired and more graveled voice. A new momentary pause but this time the nervous comm officer just waited, and thanked the gods it was Admiral Hackett who did the thinking and not himself - or anyone else - for that matter. 

"Send me the coordinates and all transmitted information from the buoys before they got dark. Meanwhile alert the other Admiral's." Hackett added decisively. "We need to have a QEC-conf in 15. And alert the Director as well, it's probably best if he attends."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most often my stories have room for more descriptions and I'm not entirely satisfied with the chapters that describe the battle in itself. But there turned out to be so many aspect I as the author could - perhaps should - have included. Like more of what's going on in the CIC f example. It just became too many threads for me to keep in mind this time and thus I had to focus on the Fleet Admiral since it is the terror in his eyes when he tells our Shepard that he "presided over the greatest defeat in the history of humanity" that I wanted to portray the best I could.

Picking up their speed with a mobility and swiftness not seen in the galaxy for fifty thousand years, no more than a dozen Reapers unleash themselves onto the two awaiting human fleets. The Admiral's of the Second and Third didn't wait but seized the moment and began firing furiously while red beams of death tore through Alliance ships. 

After another sweeping scan of the space between the Fifth and batarian territory the Fifth now headed to join the others and intercept the Reapers. 

A few more minutes of troubled monitoring of the battlefield and the Admiral released a new, longer set of orders in a stern stackato.

"Get the rest of the personnel at the Naval HQ out _A.S.A.P_.”

His eyes never left what played out at the battlefield but added nonetheless, “and anyone else who are ready to go and doesn’t have a ride out. We take as many as we can. Then I want the 63rd with us."

¤¤¤  
At Admiral Michailovich's ship the Commander muttered to himself when the Fleet Admiral’s orders were relayed.  
“I hope he knows what he’s doing."

He had sent a wolf pack of seven frigates over to the station and they were about to dock at any second. Seven frigates would be enough to pick up the rest of their naval personnel on the station, and any additional groups of civilians who were ready to go.

But no chance in hell he would have his captains _waiting_ for troublesome politicians who fuzzed and bickered about Hackett's evac-order like a wild beast being snared. 

“Then you get the heck out of there by FTL." He ended his instructions as they came online for a quick sit rep. "Don’t try to reach the relay. Once you've let the civilians off, you know our rendez vous-coordinates.” Michailovich could tell his commanders were disappointed in varying degrees. Hell, he would be too - normally at least. But this battle sure wasn’t normal by the looks of it, and he just hoped “the Trinity” could somehow turn the tide. 

“Don't be sorry if you feel like you miss the fun, cause by the looks of it...” he threw a concerned glance at the small MDHD, brows furrowed, “... you might actually be the lucky ones today. The others are getting their asses kicked really bad.” 

His seven commanders merely nodded, ready to go. “And these space shrimps are extremely fast, by the looks of it. Faster than you even. So I suggest you are done and out of the system long before the Reaper hits the station.” 

The seven captains, four men and three women and damn fine commanders nodded grimfaced and tense.

"Aye aye, sir!"

“Just be careful and trust your instincts,” Michailovich said and ended the call. Now the majority of the 63 Scouting Flotilla were headed for the rest of the Fifth, intercepting the Reapers. The grumpy Russian Admiral clutched his hands and rubbed them together, grim, terrified and expectant all at the same time, Singh and Da Silva needed every addition possible.

¤¤¤  
On the Orizaba the Fleet Admiral personally commenced the wipe-out process of all vital information in the Alliance Naval HQ. It hadn't taken him more than ten excruciating minutes to realize they couldn't win this, but the underlying meaning of that decision meant caused the Fleet Admiral to initiate it personally. The fewer around CIC who knew of it at the moment the less risk of distraught crew members, it wouldn't do much good to have his crew despond over the fact that their Commander ten minutes into the battle abandoned their main objective and concluded their capital likely to be lost.

The situation was severe and dark as it was at the moment. "Order the station to speed up their evacuation," doomsday ice shone underneath the Admiral's cap as unflinching eyes peered over at Chief of Staff Okafor, then the Yeoman. 

The main part of the Fifth were still on its way to intercept them their flank, but it was evident that the lone Sovereign couldn't have shown it's full capacity at the Citadel almost three years ago.

These Reapers were even more superior in shielding and movement giving them an even greater advantage---  
The Yeoman interrupted the Admiral’s grim line of thought.

"Admirals Singh and Da Silva on the line, Sir. Patching them through?" Nodding, the Admiral suddenly felt drawn.

"How the heck do we fight _this_?" Carlos Da Silva blurted out the flustered question first thing and echoed Admiral Hackett's thoughts. True to his feelings as always the obvious indignation made Da Silva's slight latin accent thicker.

Admiral Hackett's usually rich voice was uncharacteristically flat and rough with tension.

"Damn if I know." He said, upon a moment's consideration of their options. His gaze of watchful arctic blue highlighted by the flickering lights of the constantly shifting display before him.

"But we could try to concentrate our fire to a few targets at a time. It should drain their shields more effectively - now they wave off our attempts."

Da Silva huffed an ironic snort. “No shit, huh.” he muttered and Hackett threw his old friend a piercing glance. 

“For your _crew’s_ sake, Carlos, how about you mind your language just a bit...” Hackett retorted coolly. 

“Their superior speed is obvious a major problem, what if our VI system's aren't fast enough?" Singh chimed in, smoothly mitigating Da Silva's agitated words. Contemplating the suggestion Hackett rubbed his chin.

"You mean in that we either need to get closer before firing, or risk to miss."

"When we do get closer they just tear through us," the Admiral of the Second ended their line of thought heatedly, rich brown eyes glaring at Admiral Singh over a more static vid com.

Da Silva was very concerned and testy by the sound of it, so Singh did not deign to respond and before them the Fleet Admiral's broad, firm hand stroked his chin and silver goatee again in a considering gesture, as always when deeply focused or problem solving things. But they knew the stern Admiral of the Fifth well enough to see that even he was troubled. 

"Fighters might be good to try…" Da Silva suggested and scratched his short black beard that, unlike Hackett's didn't have one single gray hair. ‘Haddock’ his crew and friends called him because of it - as much as because of his temper.

"Indeed, that and calibrated fire from wolf packs to see what can drain those damn shields. "

They hadn’t managed to take down any Reaper yet, although a couple of Reaper shields had taken a heavy beating. But the situation was turning from dire to desperate for where the Alliance ships could only hope to drain shields, the deadly Reaper blasts tore several ships to pieces in one blow. 

"Javelins? Disruptor torpedoes?" Singh proposed slowly, concern in his north indian accent.

"If close enough to be effective then why not? We can't be picky in this situation, can we?" Hackett replied but his attempt of dry humor didn't reach his eyes where a terrible ice storm seemed to rage and no smiles appeared on the other's faces. The situation had turned disastrous in less than ten minutes.

“That also means getting dangerously close to their fire, Hackett.” Da Silva muttered while his colleague Nitesh nodded silently. 

"I know", the Fleet Admiral answered grimly, his voice sounded harsh and the only sign of how the situation pained the man, "so see to it that the fire is coordinated and concentrated on one or two targets at the time. Then perhaps we won't need to find out exactly how close we need to get with javelins and disruptor torpedoes." 

None of them liked it but all three knew what was on stake. They needed to find a tactic that worked somehow and fast, or else the Alliance's capital and many thousands of lives were lost.

The Orizaba was going full speed at an intercepting course, and was closing in on their target when the Fleet Admiral came to think of something.

"Let’s try the X1's and have ten fighters load one probe on each ship," he ordered abruptly. It was a small experimental probe that combined Dr Solus invisibility shielding-solution from Horizon with the tiniest scanning device the R&D could develop.

The tiny X1 collected data from its host by limited scanning and passive collection of data when it was fired at a target where it attached it self somewhere on its host. Hopefully it would be able to collect some additional data about the mighty but enigmatic Reapers. 

From there it spiraled downward quickly when ominous intel after intel poured in.

Admiral Lindholm had just ordered a retreat. Earth was seconds away to be attacked by the Reaper’s and the Fourth fleet was severely damaged and more or less obliterated.

From the 63rd came the intel of contradictory messages about the ongoing civil evacuation at the station, which slowed it down and endangered it completely.

 _Bloody hell_ , the increasingly grimfaced Fleet Admiral swore to himself.

"Fire at will" he ordered Fifth fleet as the Orizaba gave up a muffled, momentary shudder rippling through the CIC when the dreadnought unleashed its powerful main gun in a refractory response to the bad news.

The mighty burst hit its target making its shielding flicker faintly in red onto the dark background of space, fused with faint light blue nuances and white streaks. The horizon was littered with Alliance ships of all sizes putting up a stubborn defense between the relay and Arcturus station, their headquarters, home and very symbol of human place and expansion in space, as other Fifth fleet ships engaged the enemy. 

So far they had taken down a destroyer and halted two Reapers. But at the same time three more capital ships had showed up. 

Aligned fire proved fairly successful together with Thanix fire wherever that was possible, but reloading and calibration took time. Combined with the swiftness of the Reapers their simply wasn't enough.

It was indeed a grim lesson to learn that the proud System’s Alliance Navy and their Admirals had nothing, absolutely nothing, to put up as an effective defense against the Reapers. Not that didn’t end up destroying their ships in the process at least, half battle groups at a time, here and there.

It was beyond any doubt that Arcturus station now existed on borrowed time, however horrible that realization was, and as it sent a cold chill down his spine Admiral Hackett knew they needed to get hold of the Prime Minister within minutes or his life would be forfeit. But Orizaba's comm-sec didn’t seem to find the man in the increasing chaos on the station. And with increasing amounts of debris around them the comm-lines were getting affected. Or maybe the Reapers possessed jammers...

Nothing surprised Admiral Hackett when it came to these monsters. 

Even more chilling was the realization that Arcturus station was far from being evacuated.  
With it came the first brief feeling of guilt, quickly shoved aside, now more than ever the Alliance needed its Admirals firm and dependable - and no more than himself, so with a suppressed sigh he shoved it aside and continued on. 

But they needed to buy the station more time to evacuate.

That's when the Yeoman dropped another bomb causing everything to spiral downhill faster and faster.  
"Sir...Earth is besieged, and the Vancouver HQ is gone...sir..."

At first time seemed to slow down, and a sense of burning, undiluted dread he had only felt two times before in his life, hit him hard straight in his diaphragm.

 _Dios. Shepard!_ The Fleet Admiral tried to breath as his body suddenly felt limp and drawn, dread lodged in his throat and chest like burning coals, feeling like someone had hit him with a bat right over his knee pits.

The Admiral grabbed the rail and took a deep breath and shut his eyes hard. Then another breath and exhale that felt like it went on forever and in slowmotion.

Keep your act _together_ , the man demanded inwardly and exhaled hard, opened his eyes and took in the situation around CIC. How many others felt like he did right now? The news of Earth being badly hit and the Alliance's Earth headquarters in Vancouver obliterated, stirred the increasing panic already lurking there as the dozen Reapers continued to tear their way through the Fleets.

The new tension didn't elude the Fleet Admiral as his drawn face but attentive icy, steel-piercing eyes surveyed the CIC and its crew, assessing the atmosphere. Making some sweeping gestures on his omnitool he opened a channel to all fleets and addressed everyone.

"You're doing well everyone, so just keep at it. We're still in this but need to give the evac a little more time. I know you won't let them down." The deep, cool-headed voice roamed firm and steadfast over the increasing chaos of barked orders and continuous half shouted replies and updates, buzzing in the background.

He couldn't leave the MDHD now but used his eyes, voice and posture to convey the indomitable, cool focus everyone needed badly right now. And threw a silent order with his eyes to his senior officers to keep any panic among their crew under control.  
And it did help, it really did.

But his encouraging, calm words, however comforting in this dire hour, couldn't turn the tide of the battle.

The Reapers could move unprovoked among their fleets and battle groups due to their speed, agility and shielding. And thus unleashing their deadly red beams of death as they wished. 

All the while the Alliance ships most often didn't have the crucial time to coordinate and calibrate their fire, simply because they couldn't retreat and leave free passage for the menacing creatures to head for the Alliance's capital.

They would have to release the fighters into this mess A.S.A.P, Admiral Hackett pondered, using everything they got to drain more from those darn shields. And if nothing else to at least try and divert the Reapers from smashing larger Alliance vessels into pieces. 

"Deploy our fighters and the X1:s", he ordered, biting the inside of his lip in tense expectation. Orizaba's fighter pilots had been eager to try themselves, almost testy, but with a growing sorrow in his heart Admiral Hackett knew they would soon realize what they were up against.

So he let the pilots fly and try.  
Fly and die.  
And it felt as if he died alongside them bit by bit as their small ships exploded.

But the fighters actually helped to slow the enemy down somewhat and to keep the terrifying red weapons from tearing through the larger ships. To their credit the pilots adapted fast and attacked in smaller groups and targeted especially the Reaper limbs, just as ordered.

Hackett enlarged a small portion of the MDHD where his fighters furiously engaged a Destroyer, swarming around it in groups of four or five, firing over and over again and huffed to himself, allowing a hint of a smile, as the destroyer exploded. Wild, half desperate cheering erupted on Orizaba's command bridge.

By God what they needed that tiny little victory, and the Admiral allowed himself to let the small relief ripple through him for a heartbeat. It was unexpected that so small ships could drain reaper shields with continuous fire.

On a increasingly more static audio line the Admiral asked the other two. "Do you see what I do?

"That we have our asses handed to us like never before?" Da Silva retorted with a flustered snort.

"Agreed. But take a look at any monster attacked by our fighters." 

It was Admiral Singh who replied with just a hint of tension in his focused tone, even Nitesh must be feeling the heat now, the Fleet Admiral thought. But the man did a hell of a job keeping up the appearances that was so important right now, the grizzled man concluded as Singh answered swiftly. "The fighters collected fire are eating at their shields."

“Yes, not fast enough perhaps but see what you can do with it, we need to use everything we can to buy more time for the evac.”

The two Admirals nodded to the Fleet Admiral, already understanding the sacrifices it demanded of all of them. The battle had been lost from the very first minute. The only chance to even the odds was to use hit-and-run tactics - which they couldn't now.

The battle wasn’t about tactics anymore, hardly about strategy either - they knew that too. Now, it was all about perseverance. To buy the station time, and preferably without having their fleets obliterated in the process. 

And still there were no words on the Prime minister as the Reapers were getting closer and closer to Arcturus station.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader, if you can, please disregard the clunky choices of word-placing here and there. This story proved to be VERY difficult to write and for me it always becomes visible in the flow of the text (but I just wished it to be finished to N7-day 2020 and might have stressed it too much). 
> 
> Anyway, in this chapter the perspectives also shifts between more distanced on one hand and the more intimate on the other when I tried to describe Hackett's emotional reactions to the horrors, and I can only hope it doesn't disturbs the story too much.

Nearby explosions and repeated firing caused muffled shudders to ripple through the SSV Orizaba as the one kilometer long dreadnought plunged through increasing amounts of debris of the Arcturus Stream that harbored the critical secondary relay and humankind's capital.

The three dreadnoughts, the Kailash, Logan and Orizaba quickly proved too slow and tardigrade to keep up with the agile Reapers, and instead lingered at the very outskirts of the furious, desperate space battle that stretched over half the Arcturus Stream system. From the periphery the three flagships pounded the Reaper shields from the best of their ability.

The crux was that every other fire released at the enormous but surprisingly mobile two kilometers long killing machines, missed its target.

To be perfectly honest the battle had been disastrous from the very beginning and the hard pressed Fleet Admiral wasn't even sure this could be called 'a battle'. A crippling 'roughshod' was a better definition and now they were at the end of the road - he was forced to make a very nasty decision, and fast. 

By the looks on the grave and solemn faces around him, his senior officers assumed the same. Admiral Hackett's eyes raked over the handful officers and lastly at Okafor on the adjacent side of the smooth, wooden oak rail surrounding the heart of Orizaba. The Admiral's unflinching gaze and still unflappable appearance revealed nothing of the anguish that began to stir inside.

Strategy had never felt more sinister and cold-hearted than right now, the Admiral thought as new cold shivers ran down his spine with every estimate of statistics and numbers, calculus and bone dry pro et contra. Staying and loose three fleets plus their capital and inhabitants, or retreating to live to fight another day and abandon an already doomed capital and Parliament? The taste of bile rising up in the Admiral's throat forced him to swallow repeatedly but only the attentive Okafor noticed the Commander's throat bobb beneath the cap and silver goatee, while the Orizaba groaned softly as it passed through a last chunk of cruiser debris.

It was the toughest, most heart-wrenching decision of his life. Every ounce of his sense of duty, devotion and loyalty roared in him to protect their capital, Parliament and all the defenceless civilians. But it was painfully obvious that neither Arcturus station or their three fleets would stand any chance of survival whatsoever with conditions like these.

So _he_ owned that bloody decision, no one else would or could do it for him - it was the main responsibility of the Fleet Admiral-title after all.

A clawed fist of burning cold grasped The Fleet Admiral's chest and began squeezing the air out of him, tighter and tighter. God forbid the ruthless calculus of war, Hackett thought to himself and tried to breathe deeply.

Nausea and guilt threatened to overcome him again and Hackett shut his eyes hard, grasping the wooden rail in front of him again and hard enough to whiten his knuckles while battling with his strong notions of honor and duty, shame, anguish and stern logic. "Repeat the message to the station - evac immediately, we can't hold them back..." the voice sounded like a stranger's, he noticed, harsh and almost wheezing like his vocal chords also refused to cooperate.

He wished they could have got hold of the Prime minister earlier, so Shastri, the Parliament and everyone might have been forewarned earlier about the dire, desperate situation. And now time had run out.

The anxious Orizaba crew, experienced and new, glanced over at their judicious, gritty Admiral, standing with his head lowered and cap shadowing his face, hiding from everyone that he was being torn asunder by a decision that right now appeared to only have losers.

Time went by in anguished and tormented slowmotion as the Fleet Admiral wrestled his emotions of roaring guilt and sorrow. Finally years upon years of honing his self discipline, learning to control emotions and decades of battle hardened experiences and tough decisions, slowly began to kick in. They were at the end of the road and he knew there was only one road forward one that strategically was sound however difficult it was to make. 

"We have to retreat or else we lose both station and fleets." Every word leaving his lips was pure anguish, but the taciturn, and slightly pale, Chief of Staff only nodded pensively. What Hackett faced right now was a decision between 'pest or cholera', and the Chief of staff was indeed relieved it wasn't up to himself to make such a horrendous decision. 

Steeling himself over and over Admiral Hackett made his voice firm and loud as he finally gave the grim order. "Prepare for an all-fleet-retreat to our designated coordinates in threats condition Sabre One. Have navigation prepare for FTL course out to the nearest secondary relay. Then get me Singh and Da Silva on the double."  
Leaving the system by FTL would not be their primary means of exiting it, possible to track as it was. But on the other hand did it take considerably more time to calculate than a relay jump, which with VI assistance took about half a minute.

The Orizaba trembled ominously as its shields was struck by heavy pieces of debris when she passed through a ship wreck of a third fleet cruiser. It was the SSV Stockholm, one destroyed cruiser among countless others today.

"And _someone_ pinpoint Shastri for God's sake." The expression on his face was one of pain, the lines of his face was more visible, but steely resolve shone in the eyes as he gave the orders and took in the CIC and everyone who glanced nervously at him. 

The momentary stillness that fell around them in the dim battle lights as his orders left him was immense and tangible, and the more experienced among them knew perfectly well why. They were not afraid for their own safety but for their friends and loved ones. Of people on Earth or the station or out among the colonies, and none knew who had escaped or not, or where else the Reapers might have attacked.

"Stay focused and keep your hope and faith," he said loud enough over the CIC to be heard over the noise. A warning and encouragement alike to a frightened crew to keep fighting, as eyes of crushing, stern intensity raked over them all.  
Resolutely he shoved aside his guilt, sorrow and worry of what lay ahead.

The pilots were already on their way back to Orizaba's hangars, but with fifty percent casualties. They had fought valiantly and improvised in smaller groups, harassing the opponent, draining Reaper shields. Luckily enough, two of the hundred fighter pilots even managed to deploy two of the X1's onto the limbs of two unknowing capital Reapers which had transmitted a weak signal of its collected data before they suddenly silenced.

A strong sense of pride over the pilots and every crew member flickered by and warmed his insides as quick and light footsteps neared from one of the corridors in the CIC, and a female dispatcher appeared. Saluting silently she handed over an digi-pad before hurriedly heading back down the dark corridor.

The cool sense of its metal frame in his palms felt calming as he opened and read it, but suddenly his legs felt completely wilted and drawn of all strength and long, strong and perfectly manicured fingers grasped the wooded rail to keep him upright. A shuddering breath left the Admiral and his vision suddenly felt blurry as he looked down at the short message. 

Anderson was alive - and Shepard! Dear God, _Jane_ had survived and left with the Normandy, and now reporting in on comm channels heavy with static and interference less than a minute ago... Undiluted warmth and gratitude drenched him, rippling through his body wave after relieved wave. Somehow, by skill no doubt, the two of them had survived and it gave him enough light and resolve to see the road in this darkness more clearly.

There wasn't much time to indulge in either gratitude or relief however, as the Admiral's once more came online. 

"I'm glad I'm not the one to make this decision, Steven, Carlos Da Silva said grimly after Hackett's quick sit rep and decision, concern evident in his rich brown eyes and choice of first name.  
"But for whatever its worth I think it's the right call. We have given the station what extra time we can." Singh nodded in unusual emphasis, also noticing the Fleet Admiral's anguish and Hackett realized his colleague's silent backing, nodding back.

"Then I suggest the Second retreat away from the Reaper's first," Hackett's steel blue eyes searched Da Silva's for any objection but found none and continued. We and Singh cover for you while you continue firing at the Reapers, buying the evacuees as much time we can. Meanwhile Singh disengage the Reapers and either join the Second or head for the relay while the Fifth keep the Reapers occupied as long as we can.

At the potential ambiguity in Admiral Hackett's words, Da Silva's eyes narrowed. "Your'e not considering something foolish here, right?..." the man asked cautiously in the South American Castellan-portuguese blend, and added, "In that case _stop_. You are the strategic mastermind here, amigo. Not us. We _need_ you to lead us if we are to stand any chance, and you know it!" Da Silva had become tense again and even pointed an accusing finger at his old acquaintance. Admiral Hackett merely inclined his head and didn't deign to answer.

Instead he switched subject and firmly continued - in English. "We're trying to get hold of Shastri, any decision would feel better if we could inform him at least."

Nitesh Singh nodded his agreement. "Indeed."

Two relentless nods and the three veteran Commanders commenced the process of organizing their retreat fleets. 

¤¤¤  
In the middle of the buzzing activity of low shouts, barking orders and hurried footsteps around the dimly lit corridors on the Orizaba's CIC, stood the Fifth-Com officers stern and composed like the eyes of the storm, observing the bleeding Second Fleet organize their retreat swift and efficiently while their Fifth fell in and reorganized their defenses best they could in their wake. The Reapers were unfortunately almost at Arcturus station by now and nearly forced the Alliance Navy to hunt after them. 

Tapping a finger on the rail in front of him, the Admiral waited on Amul Shastri, assessing the battlefield that so far still admitted a fair chance of a successful retreat if they were careful. Updated intel fortunately revealed that the Exodus cluster and its important relay still was clear of enemies. 

“Sir, we've got hold of the Prime minister. He's alive and well but refuses to leave the station until they have managed to get more people to the evac shuttles.”

Finally, Hackett thought but the relief faded as quickly as he heard the relayed message in its entirety.

“Tell Shastri that if they wish to live, they have no more than a couple of minutes before the creatures hits the station, tops. _We_ are unfortunately no match for this enemy conventionally and doesn't have the means to stop the attack". Ágain his throat felt lodged and clamped as if his body struggled against the words. "I had to order a retreat or else there wont be much fleets left to fight this war.”

The com officer relayed the final message from Shastri.

“Affirmative and understandable. Commander Shepard and you were right all the time about and I wished we had listened earlier... Do what you must, Admiral then get the Reapers what they deserve. And maybe we will meet again." Relief and tormenting grief stormed in Admiral Hackett's abdomen at their Prime minister's proud and dignified farewell.

"Third Fleet, commence the retreat", the Fleet Admiral ordered, so low and grim it sounded more like a growl.

"All brave ships, this is Admiral Hackett. You are a great honor to the Navy facing an immensely superior enemy with relentless courage and determination. But we are being overwhelmed and I have therefore ordered a full retreat, as horrible as it is to us all. But do not loose faith or hope. We _won't_ give up. Hackett out."

¤¤¤  
The System's Alliance Navy continued retreating, giving delaying fire to buy each other, and the station, what extra time it could give. The Fifth fleet took a bad beating in the last, trembling minutes and the Fifth had to take on the Reapers before a dozen horrifying capital Reapers, now seemingly focused on the station, unleashed themselves onto the capital. Thirty ships from the Fifth gave up their lives to buy a discouraging few shuttles a final chance to escape in the, but only three more had time to depart from the station.

The Third fleet led the way back to the relay and had commenced their first jumps out when the signature of Arcturus station disappeared from the Holo displays on every CIC on the remaining fleets.  
Gasps and outright sobbing broke out here and there on the Orizaba's bridge as they all saw, the Fleet Admiral as well, their home and people they knew, disappear with it. Hackett kept his face unreadable but curled his hands into fists of frustration and helplessness underneath the rail.  
The only other sign visible was a hard, heavy exhale before he bowed his head in respect and grief.

Arcturus station was gone, the capital and all its headquarters, the Prime minister and the Parliament, their beautiful Naval HQ and his home. And above all, close to fortyfive thousand lives gone with it.

Not having experienced their menacing foe before, no one had expected what happened next. Contrary to all conventional rules of engagement, the Reapers didn't stay put after having destroyed humanity's capital and killed closer to fifty thousand people within forty minutes.

To everyone's flabbergasted horror they watched on as the Reapers split into one larger and one smaller group, where the smaller - consisting of three Reapers -went after the fleeing evac shuttles, apparently intent on destroying them as well despite their insignificance. It caused a distraught and furious outrage among the hundreds of retiring Alliance ship's, the powerlessness and futility eating at them and causing even more sobbing. Even among the seasoned commanders at the top of the command chains were taken aback and outraged.

For a moment Admiral Hackett stood wide eyed too, breathing in and forgetting to exhale until his chest almost exploded and he let out a sharp exhale. His lips pressed together to a thin line and in his light blue, narrowing eyes burned a surreal, cold fury.   
But he could do nothing forced to oversee and concentrate on the retreat and larger group coming after them, ominously fast. The Reapers weren't even ten in number but would destroy their hard bought retreat nonetheless if they caught up on them. 

More and more of the Third jumped and soon the first among the Fifth and Second would begin to jump, but Admiral Da Silva had noticed that the SSV Orizaba remained among the last together with parts of the Fifth and most of the remaining Second Fleet. Once more Da silva got a hunch what Admiral Hackett might be up to and called the Fleet Admiral on his private omnitool.

Through the static his old colleague was livid. "They just handed out asses to us like no one ever has or will again, they destroy our capital full of innocents - and now they go after our last evacuees too? No way in hell, Steven," Carlos sputtered out with a sneer that contained all the harbored frustration and guilt they all felt, and Hackett only nodded, "and now they're coming after us again too." 

"I was just about to order us to turn," the Fleet Admiral retorted simply with calm determination, "Your Second have done enough today, Admiral..."

"But if we use the calibrated fire we might stand a small chance when they're headed straight at us. Meanwhile our frigates can head for the ones going after the shuttles." Da Silva's voice dropped low in ice cold determination.

In theory it could work however slim chance it might be in reality, Admiral Hackett considered ominously then shook his head. They would not stand a chance to reach the shuttles in time anyway, 

"You know what needs to be done, Steven - and we do too, they will hit us and take both the Second and Fifth out before we can jump. The Fifth is the only fleet with experience of these heinous creatures, and you my friend are equally necessary if we are to win this in the long run", the Admiral of the proud Second fleet reasoned and threw a quick look sideways before he looked back, his rich brown eyes suddenly sad and determined.

Words stuck and lodged in his throat and Admiral Hackett struggled to find any words, refusal and sorrow making his throat bobb. "It can't be you, me amigo, you know that" Da Silva whispered solemnly and Hackett felt his eyes redden. But after what felt like another eternity he simply nodded, defeated. 

"But tell them to get the hell out of there if possible, you hear me? Go hiding or seek us up, just... _survive_ if possible. There will be enough death as it is in this war." Hackett voice cracked and sounded so hoarse he hardly recognized himself. Then he straightened his back and saluted the heroic Second Fleet and its brave Admiral. 

Admiral Carlos Da Silva did the same, fierce determination blended with bottomless sadness. And as they ended their call, Hackett knew the same sadness shone in his own eyes. "You won't be forgotten"

...

As they continued their desperate retreat toward the Arcturus relay, only minutes from jumping, leaving the Second to fight their delaying, desperate battle, the signals from the three evacuation shuttles had disappeared. And so had the three Reapers, which was a disturbing reminder of where the Reapers might be headed next.

To join in their fellow kin in Sol? To attack somewhere else?

It suddenly made him come to think of the Mars Archives where Dr Liara T'Soni had gone weeks ago after a lead on what could be an ancient Prothean blueprint. If he was fast enough he might get hold of the Normandy and send Shepard there first to find the intel, and hopefully the Doctor as well if she hadn't left already. 

"Get me the Normandy and Commander Shepard A.S.A.P." 


	4. Into the long night

Personal audio log entry 1: Debrief by audiolog.

Name: Steven Hackett

[EDATE: 271805Z SEPT 2186]

[Recording]

I know I need to get it out of my mind. The first, still lingering impressions and reactions, feelings and horrific images to what occured less than 24 hours ago when the Reapers attacked the galaxy, and began with us and Arcturus...

[ _Audible sighs_ ] 

When does a commander deem a futile battle or war 'game over'?

How long do we try to find effective tactics against an overwhelmingly superior enemy who proved to be too swift, too fast and blowing both Arcturus station up within less than half an hour and entire battlegroups in pieces by the minute?

I asked myself precisely this when I stood at the CIC, chaos surrounding the Orizaba making it increasingly difficult to get an overview. But I had time to notice enough to see we were being smashed, ships at a time.

[ _Pause_ ]

So, what was the right choice in that situation, to stay and fight to the bitter end as my loyalty called for? Should we - I - have stood our ground out of duty, devotion and sheer stubborness? Going down guns blazing side by side with ships and fleets and crew?

Or should we have fled for dear life and pay the price of a lingering shame like a festering, aching wound on our - my - conscience? For it sure is how it feels now, a burning hole through my soul for leaving them behind.

I asked myself all this and in hindsight the choice is of course clear. Painful but evident.

But there and then it still became the hardest, most painful decision of my life...hands down. 

[Pause]

I chose the latter alternative after all, it was the only sound decision. I chose for us to live and fight another day along with the blame and shame and guilt.

But no one will ever know, not even my XO, how darn hard that choice was. God help me, but for a heartbeat I wanted to let the Orizaba and a battlegroup to stay behind and cover for the other fleet's retreat.

[Long pause]

I logically knew what had to be done as no tactical advantages existed that would ever justify to stay and take such a vastly superior opponent head on while wiping out half if humanity's fleet in one single suicidal blow, that - _at the most_ \- would have taken one or two of the bastards out but barely slowed them down anyway.

[ _Heavy exhale_ ]

The thing is I put the best fleets there to protect Arcturus, my Fifth, Da Silva's Second and Singh's Third, as Lindholm's First was responsible for protecting Earth.

We all agreed on spreading us out in several systems since we still had no real lead on were and when they would show up except for in human or batarian space. 

It was my responsibility too keep Arcturus safe. And I failed, I failed so damn hard that the tactical decision that should have been easy, for several moments became the hardest of my life.

In the end I chose to look a colleague and friend in the eye, nodding an agreement that sealed his and thousand of people's fates in a blink of an eye, before I turned my back at the heroic Second Fleet and its Admiral and any small numbers of survivors from Arcturus, ordering a full retreat of the Third and Fifth fleets.

It doesn't help one bloody bit that I planned and prepared for this enemy more than any other race or commander did. 

It wasn't enough.

Or so it feels right now. 

Then there are other thoughts I know are driven by guilt and my conscience, that perhaps something more could have been done. _Should_ have been done.

[ _muffled, unaudible sounds and words]_

But is what it is.

And it's still intense and chaotic out there with pieces of intel and updates being reported by the minute, and I need to get back at it. Not many evacuees seem to have made it unfortunately, nor from any Second fleet survivors.

Oh my god - there so much hurt and grief for myself and in our crews among the fleets. So many friends and dear ones are already lost to us. And the scarce news from Earth is particularly horrenduos.

[Pause]

I'd say the true heroes so far are the Alliance crews, working hard and professional despite what they've seen of the Reapers and heard about Earth and our capital. I suppose we all in a sense are working around the clock to avoid thinking too much. 

And there is indeed so much to be done for me as well, but as they say 'no rest for the wicked', huh.

[End audio log].

**Author's Note:**

> The summary and fourth chapter log entry were deliberately sharpened into questions simply to emphasize the decisions the "Fleet Admiral" had to make at the critical point during this battle.  
> Jan 2021: I'm very sorry for the bad quality of this first chapter. Don't know what went wrong but I'm making an overhaul.


End file.
